I did not even want to use the word Weed. However, Thanks to a Celebrity Doctor, I think there are some big changes coming in the near future. Like maybe Weed will go into mass production, the price will come down, the tax will go up, farming Jobs will be created, and New Factories will be created. When government tries to feed up crap, we will all just me laughing our ass of because we are all buzzed.
CNN chief medical correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta spent a year traveling around the world to shed light on the debate about marijuana, on CNN it is Titled; “Weed” and aired this last Sunday.
It has been weighing on my mind that I have felt insulted, recently, by a Medical professional when I showed my MM Green Card “for the Records.” I sincerely feel as though I am taking charge of my own life, by choosing to rid myself of the chemicals that the FDA has approved to treat my multiple, physical and Mental Disorders. (Let me remind you I suffer from PTSD).
Therefore, this Medical Professional says to me Not a direct quote “Statistics show that the majority of Medical Marijuana smokers are throw backs from the 1960’s Hippies. Come on are alcoholics throw backs from the time when Jesus turned water into wine? WTF
Keeping my PTSD under control was a bit of a challenge at that moment, because when my buttons are pushed my foul mouthed, Italian temper, abused child, and traumatized Adult, Attitude just might unleash my indignation, which might be fired on anyone who pushed my insulted button or the next person I see. Taking a deep cleansing breath
I shut down the urge long enough to ask, “What the Fuck is wrong with you, where did you say you went to college for your degree?” However, I really wanted to seriously go on to say “Did you skip the classes on “Bedside Manner” you stupid Fucktard.”
Patting myself on the back for keeping my mouth shut thus far and sitting straight in my chair I began defending myself in a calm Manner even though I was very irritated, so sarcasm switch was flipped. I knew my voice sounded unfriendly, although I had been visiting this Medical Professional on a regular basis, in order to maintain my prescription supplies on hand for about a year. Now I am approaching this person, as if I had just met a stranger who insulted me.
Ok here it goes my spoken defense to her, I am not a throw back pothead, old Hippie, from the 1960's who practiced free love and danced around in Golden Gate Park with flowers in my hair, high as a kite (on a lot more than just Weed I guarantee).
In the Early 1960's under the thumb of my psychopathic, alcoholic, sadomasochist Mother, who was grooming me to be sold into prostitution, at which time my virginity was up at auction to the highest bidder. I ran, which is what I did best back then.
Late 1960's I was back with my sex crazed, delusional Father, with my virginity in tact. He treated me like his personal house cleaner, instead of a cherished daughter. He needed me out of his way on a regular basis, so he pawned me off on a 20-year-old male babysitter, who was the son of a guy he worked with; I was about 12 yeas old. That resulted in a shotgun wedding, three children (one who did not survive adulthood), an over the top abusive marriage of 15 years, which ended in divorce. When I felt like an adult, who was not going to take this shit anymore in 1979. I ran away again
I had children to raise and never did anything illegal, because I knew in my heart if I abandoned my children, by going to Jail I may loose them to the seriously insane people I who have crossed my path since the day I was born. People I was determined to NOT be like them.
I had to really restrain myself and Hold back NOT Adding: you Fucking Moron to the end of my sentence and walking out. However, I instead gripped my chair, ready for a ride on the “Merry go Round Brain War” with this condescending person, repeating to myself “she who speaks first looses, don’t talk, and don’t talk”. I wish I could have gone there stoned (can not toke and drive).
Un-stoned I was tempted to switch gears and start on a mental journey, of my parents and I could shock her with some very gory details. I had to quickly shift gears, and escape my programmed Victim Mode. Not knowing where to go next, She made me feel trapped in her judgmental realm. I knew I was not going to flee, holding my ground I simply stopped talking.
Well, here is one for the Medical Journals: To the Moron Medical Professionals, who disapproves of The Medical Marijuana Movement, sorry you will not be catered to by the Chemical Big Shot companies that run this country anymore. If you think you are deserving of Perks because of that degree on your wall, think again. There is a movement headed your way and I am on it. The Pharmaceutical Reps. Will arrive at your office dressed in Tie die and Mohawks, not $500.00 suites.
However, know this I am a Survivor. I have survived more trauma than most patients you see. I did not become a drug addict from Trauma in the 1960's or since then. I should be taking Heroin by now, to escape my own mind. Prostituting myself would have been a much easier life than the life I have led thus far. Therefore, I gave it away for Love’s sake. I have been dirt poor, with no food to feed my children. There were a few indiscretions, where I was looking for love in all the wrong places, and I served my sentence for those mistakes.
By the age of 20, I had three children; I pulled my self up by some very tough bootstraps. I think someone made my imaginary boot about two sizes too small, because I sure stumbled a lot in life.
I have been on every stinking prescription medication known to man. Except Lithium, I heard that once they put you on Lithium you never come off the insanity train.
I was mis-diagnosed with every stupid mental disorder on the books. Sent into a tailspin of speed me up and calm me down, until I felt so insane I made a serious attempt to take my own life in the 2003. That landed me through a 30-day trauma of being committed to the psychotic ward of the Big City Hospital. I am not taking about some posh Behavioral Science Center; this was a serious Looney bin. Throwing me there was like Jail, it was SHOCK Therapy at its best.
Do you want to do Crazy Shit? A place like that will make you or break you. By that, I mean you will look around the locked cage you are in and see that you have been lumped in with some seriously insane people. You are who you hang with. Beat them or join them are your only two options in the sanitarium of the mentally ill.
Keep coming back to the Looney bin, because you are broken. On the other hand, "make" yourself, Define yourself, pull up those bootstraps gain and get on with trying to live a normal quiet life, without chaos and Drama.
Welcome to the land of seriously insane, I was sure they had buckets of pharmaceuticals with this hospital wards number on it, 5th floor. In those 31 days, I received four different diagnoses by the same Psychiatrist on staff. Each time a new cocktail of prescriptions was tried. Finally, I had the nerve to ask him if he would be tending to my psychiatric care when I am set free from this nut house prison.
He answered "No" My response; “So what the fuck is the point of all of this.” He responded; We have a right to hold you for 30 days and you will be released on day 31. Oh gottcha now; I think what he really meant to say was “honestly your insurance company will pay for 30 days and we always milk that government system dry”.
I was released and that was 10 years ago. I took my life back and began to withdraw from the chemicals that were poured into me by caring Physicians concerned for my well-being. NOT. When I took my health care decisions back, I also felt as though I was taking my life back. With some of the medication, withdrawal was not going to be easy. Five years later, I bucked up and headed for Arizona, back out West where I belong.
Since my birth, I have lived like a gypsy, never being in one place long enough for it to feel like a Home, although the people providing the accommodations made life feel like I was living in some freaking Alfred Hitchcock movie nightmare. I have changed addresses 46 times in 57 years of life. So basically, I have been re-homed like a stray dog every 15 months, carrying three pups with me for about 12 of those years.
Now also consider this, by discontinuing a “Life Force” induced by a plethora of perfectly legal chemicals, termed "Prescriptions" I got clean of the toxins that were controlling me. They were “making” me feel out of control, while Doctors mixed Psychiatric meds with Pain Meds. This was a conspiracy to keep me coming back to the Looney Ben. I vowed to myself that will never happen to me again. I must plot an escape. It took years yet the only thing that kept me mentally normal was to start a journal of my life. I began from the earliest year I can recall, when I was about 3 years old. That was the first trauma I experienced by my mommy.
I am on a Rebel Cause to find myself, who ever the fuck that might be; A flipped out Nut Job, or an old woman, who has been there done that, now needs do it differently. And do it one my own. I have taken up a new cause along with a band of potheads, and we smoke weed.
Here I am folks comfortably stoned on Weed (thank you Dr. Gupta I am going to call it Weed from now on (I enjoy sharing what is on my mind). Most of my neighbors are anti-social nit-wits, who have never bothered to wave back. Great who needs neighbors who want to know your life story? I have come out on the other side of insanity and have much home that I can stay here.
Have you heard this one?
The true definition of insanity is to continue doing the same things over and over again and expecting different results.
Well, how about switching that up a little bit with a Ganja Goji version and add this to the medical jargon dialog:
The second true definition of insanity is, continuing to attempt to fit in with people who only seek to harm you physically and emotionally (Sometimes called family or friends) over and over again and expecting different results. There comes a time where you must walk away and never look back. I did just that again in 2009.
Ok here is my last pet peeve for today: Surely, you have heard this one “Forgiving, sets you free“. Oh, hell no, tried that, within forgiveness lies a spinning circle of forgetfulness. It is a trap, trust me I have tried it many times, of course with many of the same people were involved. Over and Over again insane behavior, most definitely.
Some people will flat out reject your forgiveness and demand we not speak of the past ever again, wipe the slate clean so to speak. Another trap, to pull you back in. After your brain swirls their web of deceit, like a cone in a cotton candy machine, you may began to think you need a lot of psychological help to find some understanding.
I have taken back my forgiving nature and hold it tightly to my heart; for fear that, I will insanely repeat having a relationship with any of them. Forgiveness is mine and I shall use it upon myself. I allow a tiny trickle of forgiveness to spill on to a stranger in the market if I accidentally bump them. So let them call me crazy all they want. I am so far removed from them now and will never turn back around to look in their direction.
I hold onto the pain and the sorrow. I do not need to be free from those emotions. What I do need to do is work through them, in survival mode, not wasting time or emotions of forgiveness on any of them ever again. Now that is doing something different. Therefore, it was not an insane idea. Bada Bing.
Bought a new vaporizer a couple of days ago and really enjoy it, this is better than a bong. Good thing I did not pay much for the Bong, but it will now be the “back up plan” if this new fangled electric gadget breaks down. I am going to fire it up right now. Act like a Hippie for the rest of the day. Peace Love and Happiness. I think I will go Google Tie tied Moo Moo Dresses. Wouldn’t a tie died moomoo dress look good with a camouflaged belt, strapped to me and my western styled loaded holster. Might do a photo shoot later and go Graphic on that picture.
Chillax, May you find Nirvana soon. ♥GG
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